


Fall

by nurfherder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Falling In Love, Fear, Happy, Human Castiel, M/M, Post Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nurfherder/pseuds/nurfherder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first step is admitting you love each other. The hard stuff--the <i>human</i> stuff--comes after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall

Castiel stands, moving from where he sat on the bed. He is wearing a grey t-shirt and jeans, and Dean is still not sure he’s comfortable seeing Cas in something other than a suit and trench. “Dean,” Castiel says, his voice somehow still the same gravelly substance, still the same essence trapped in a form. “You told me you loved me.”

“Yeah?” Dean swallows. There is something painful in his throat and he can’t make it go away.

“Was that true?”

“Yes. Of course it was. It _is_.” Dean’s eyes narrow and he glares at Castiel. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“And so when I come over here to you... When I knock on your door, and sit with you on your bed,” Cas walks over to Dean. He radiates anger and it’s still something physically palpable, even if he is no longer an Angel. His eyes look tired now, tired all the time. Ever since he changed, he’s been haunted in a completely new and unshakable way that pulls Dean’s heart; Dean feels like it’s his fault. Castiel continues. “When I reach a hand out to you...” He does so; Dean flinches. Castiel smirks and shakes his head. “You do that.”

“Cas, it’s...” Dean hesitates and shakes his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“You _humans_...” And there is such disdain in his voice, such repulsion that is truly felt by Castiel now, knowing what it is like to both be and not be mortal. “You humans and your made-up so-called ‘rules.’” Castiel holds up his fingers for air-quotes; he does them correctly.

“Cas--”

“God has never said one word about sexuality. Not one iota of thought or feeling.”

“I know that, Cas--”

“And yet, here you are. Looking at me, looking at yourself, like we’re... like we’re less than...” Castiel stops himself. He clenches his fists, and he looks down at the cold, cement floor of the bunker.

Dean knows he should say something. His mouth is open, and he really should say something--but the words simply do not come. They never come. It was hard enough telling Castiel he loved him; something he regretted almost immediately afterwards, because Castiel would look at him and now there were no more walls to hide behind. Clarifying love, declaring it; Dean stands here in this room, across from a man who deserves so much more, and he is unable to speak.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Castiel leaves. Dean shuts the door, and presses his head against it.

The next morning, Sam is unhelpful. Rather, he is very helpful, but he is also very busy, and he helps in such an annoying way that Dean almost thinks he wasn’t worth asking. “What should I do about Cas?”

Sam bites his lips. To Sam’s credit, he always understands how much courage it takes for Dean to ask these kinds of questions, to ask for advice on something Dean would rather not exist in the first place. Sam understands that. So when he rolls his eyes, he does so only ever so slightly. “I don’t know, Dean,” he says. “How do you feel about him?”

Dean opens his mouth to reply when Sam cuts him off. “Just so you know, I’m already well aware of how you feel about him. Are you?”

“Yes, I...” He glares at his brother. “I know how I feel about him--that’s not what I’m asking!”

“Alright then, what are you asking?”

“I’m... I’m _asking_ if--” Dean stares daggers at his brother. “I don’t know how to be with him or if I even can or if I even want to--”

“ _Do_ you want to?”

“I don’t--Sam, that is my point--I don’t _know_.”

“Well, why don’t you try it and find out?”

“Try what?”

And then Sam looks at him in such a withering way that Dean blushes outright and hates Sam and hates this conversation and hates Cas and hates the images that are fogging up in his brain right now. He doesn’t allow the half-fledged thoughts of feeling Castiel against him to come to light. When Sam reaches over to him, Dean looks up with such confusion written in his gaze that Sam speaks in a soft voice, “Try something small, Dean.”

“Like _what_?”

“Like, I don’t know--taking his hand? Kissing him, maybe?”

Dean’s mouth turns up in revulsion, and he’s not sure if it does that because he can’t stand the idea of kissing Cas or because he can’t stand the idea of his brother talking to him about this any longer. “Yeah ok, thanks man,” he says sarcastically, and then he leaves very quickly.

Out in the safety of the hallway, he presses his back against the cold wall and shuts his eyes. He puts his face in his hands, and he lets himself think about Cas. Lets himself day dream about walking up to him. Smiling at him--and Cas smiles back--and Dean reaches out for his hand...

This is terrifying. It’s awful and it’s terrifying. Dean doesn’t think he has ever been this scared in his life and he doesn’t know what to do about that. It makes him angry. It makes him resentful. So he stalks out of the building, into his car, and he goes to the store and buys a porn magazine filled with busty women who want him. Busty women that he understands. Busty women that might take this pain away.

They don’t.

The next week, Dean has psyched himself up. Dean has been psyching himself up every second of every day, because he knows his brother is right. He knows he’s just gonna have to kiss Castiel, and then see how it goes from there. He’s gonna do it. He’s gonna kiss Cas, and then this will all be over because he’s obviously not gonna like it.

He picks a pretty terrible time to do it.

They are alone in a hallway, passing each other, Castiel looking up at him with the same challenging glare in his eyes that’s been accompanying his gaze ever since Dean rejected him that night. He’s ridiculously attractive. Which only upsets Dean more and finally shuts the door on his ass, making him jump into action.

He holds out a palm to Castiel’s chest as they meet in the middle; he makes contact; he fists his fingers and very suddenly slams their heads together.

His eyes are wide open; Castiel’s eyes are wide open. It lasts for two seconds and then Dean rips away, his chest heaving, loosening his fingers from Castiel’s shirt and dropping his hand. His mind is a white hot flame and he doesn’t actually process anything except that he did it, he finally did it; _take that Cas, I did it!_

“That’s it?”

Dean blinks. He looks across at Castiel, who is, if possible, more angry than before.

“You’ve been working yourself up all this time to do that?”

Dean’s nostrils flare, and his fingers twitch at his sides. Castiel takes a small step closer, before he turns suddenly and begins to walk away. “How you managed to get all those women I will never understand.”

“ _Shut up_.”

Castiel stops and moves back to Dean. “No, actually, I don’t think I will. Because you--”

Dean is at him in moments--one hand cupping Castiel’s cheek and the other on his neck--and Dean kisses him again, and this time he’s thinking of women, he’s thinking of kissing a woman and getting her to want him, kissing soft and wild at once, tilting his head to the side. It is a challenge met, of course. Maybe that was Castiel’s plan all along, but Dean doesn’t really consider that. It begins as retaliation, but then it shifts; and Dean doesn’t stop himself when it does.

Castiel opens his mouth; Dean opens his mouth. He’s not kissing a woman. He’s kissing _Cas_. It’s Castiel’s tongue sliding against his, Castiel’s teeth yawning to make room, Castiel’s breath catching against their cheeks, Castiel’s hands sliding the expanse of Dean’s chest and pulling him in closer. They start fast, then they settle into something slow, moaning into each other. It is meaningful, and it is _desperate_ \--such a desperate, longing kiss--Dean’s heart aches as he touches Castiel, longing for more and more and more, longing to apologize, to take him in, to make sure he never ever leaves, to make sure he never ever feels like he is less than perfect ever, ever again.

Damn the need to breathe. Damn it to hell.

They separate. They are panting. They let their hands drop, and then their eyes fall open, and they stare at each other.

Dean is about to swoop in for round three when a door opens down the hall and Kevin appears, his nose buried in a book. “Dean, I think I found something--” He is halfway to them when Castiel skirts back, dropping to the wall, turning his head to the side, and then slowly drifts away. Dean watches him go, stares after the retreating form, his chest still heaving.

“The passcode to the computer might be in this--”

Dean turns to look at Kevin. He hasn’t heard a word the kid has said. “That’s great Kevin. Thank you very much.”

Kevin looks up, and Dean can tell he’s excited about something. “Should I go tell Sam?”

“Yeah, yes, that would be a good idea.” Kevin is off down the hallway again, following the path that Castiel started. “You go tell Sam.”

His brain is numb--his body is not. He needs to find Castiel and make that kiss happen again and again and again.

It’s another week before they do. Another week of looking at each other in the halls like their eyes are fire. Another week of not leaning too closely near each other as Sam shows them something relevant to the case they’re working. Another week of not touching at all, not even a little bit.

When Sam leaves them alone in the conference room one afternoon, the sun is drifting down from the high windows, catching dust in its rays. Dean finally looks at Castiel, who is standing across the room. Dean leans back slightly in his chair; then he sits forward. He opens his mouth to say something, to bring Castiel’s gaze to his, to get him to come stand near him, to light up their skin. Dean leans back again and says, very grandly, “ _Hey_.”

Castiel looks across at him. And he blushes. Which makes Dean feel stupidly happy. “Hello Dean,” he says. Something old and familiar in his old and familiar friend, comforting and beautiful amongst all the changing new.

Dean wants to say something--why is it that he always wants to say something but he just can’t? He can’t find the words; he doesn’t know how to speak goddamn English. He feels too much. Castiel is too much, and the smile on Dean’s face is too much. And the only thing he can do to make it better is to get up and fucking touch him. Just touch him.

So he does. He stands, walks over, and he reaches out a hand, and he connects Castiel’s fingers with his own. Castiel is staring down at their hands, shaky breaths passing through his lips. Dean stares at his mouth.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says.

“Me too,” says Cas.

“Ok then.” Dean moves forward, cupping Castiel’s cheek, when Castiel suddenly says in a small, trembling voice.

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.” Dean breathes out, his words ragged.

“Why is this so awful?”

And then Dean lets out a laugh, almost a bark, mad and husky.

“I don’t want to be human anymore, Dean--I can’t take this.”

Dean’s laugh dies away, and he ducks his head, making Castiel see him, running his thumb along the stubbly skin, resting it against the sharp curve of his cheekbone. “Cas--it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not. It’s terrible and I want to throw up. Nausea is _awful_ , Dean. And all I can think about is how much I want to touch you and--and kiss you again--and I don’t think if I kiss you I’ll be able to stop. I’ve never felt that way before. So completely out of control. I don’t _like_ it, Dean.”

Dean blinks slowly, something registering in him that what he is about to say is completely true. “Same.”

“Dean...” he breathes, and then he leans in.

And they are not able to stop.

When Sam wanders in later, their hair is a mess and their clothing is completely disheveled. Dean is sitting up in his chair, eyes wide, looking stunned, and Castiel looks as though he’s just realized what a neat little idea the wheel is.

Sam promptly turns around and leaves.

Two weeks later, Dean is crossing the hall, when Sam looks up from a bench in the library. “I guess you finally figured it out.”

“Figured out what?”

“If you wanted Cas or not.”

Dean pulls a face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pretends not to see the smirk on Sam’s face as he finishes the move to his bedroom, with Castiel’s pillow and trench-coat in hand.


End file.
